


Through the Eyes of The Beast

by Captain_Assbut_at_221B



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Monsters, Multi, POV Monster, POV Outsider, Protective Sam Winchester, Scary Dean Winchester, Scary Sam Winchester, Scary Winchesters (Supernatural), The Impala (Supernatural), Werewolves, Young Hunters (Supernatural), monsters pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26494570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Assbut_at_221B/pseuds/Captain_Assbut_at_221B
Summary: Alcan grew up hearing about them.The Winchesters.Flannel wrapped nightmares.As a young werewolf, Alcan's parents warned him, stay far away from those boys. If they find you, you're dead.Renner grew up hearing about them too. The son of hunters, he had always been told to keep a wide berth on the Winchesters.But what happens when Renner and Alcan's paths collide, and the telltale rumble of a '67 Impala changes both their lives forever.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

They were the thing of nightmares. Growing up, they were the threat, the monster, the boogeyman. 

“Eat your hearts or the Winchesters will find you.”

“Go to bed or the Winchesters will hunt you.” 

As they grew, just like the children of the human world, the children of the monsters had things to fear as well. But while the children of the human world feared them, the monsters feared one thing. The Winchesters. It was clawed into their minds. Fear the Winchesters like the wrath of God. Monsters though they be, they still had things to fear. 

Those things were Sam and Dean Winchester.

Alcan grew up knowing to fear the brothers in plaid. He grew up dreading the low rumble of a 1967 Chevy Impala’s engine. He had been trained to not fear anything but one thing. He had been taught to be afraid of the Winchesters. His parents had disliked the idea of him leaving their pack, telling him that if he ventured out on his own he would be in danger. But Alcan knew that he had to leave his pack. He wanted to see the world, he wanted to be independent from his pack. His parents let him go, surprisingly enough. But not without warnings. “Stay sporadic.” His mother told him. “If you don’t, Sam Winchester will find your pattern.” She had slipped a necklace with his first fang as the pendant around his neck. It had rested near his heart. “Don’t kill too many humans in one town.” His father told him. “If you do, Dean Winchester will track you down.” His father had given him a gruff kiss on his forehead, slipping something heavy and tingling into his palm. It was a ring of silver. “If you wear this, when they go to test you, it won’t burn so much.” They had stepped back and they had admired their son, Alcan, a pureblood, about to go out and see the world. As he left, they had one parting word of advice for him.   
“If they find you, and they will, don’t fight them. If they find you, you're already dead.”

Renner had grown up hearing about the Winchesters too. The son of hunters, the Winchester brothers were legend in his home. The boys that killed without remorse, that were machines of destruction. Heroes. But also something to be feared in the way a cobra is feared. Respect their space. Don’t nose your way in on hunts. Stay away from them. There was always one golden rule about the Winchesters. Don’t even threaten to hurt one of the brothers, much less kill one. If you were going to take out a Winchester, you had to take them both. The remaining one would hunt you to no end, torture you till you begged for death, and then their angel with the shining blue eyes would smite you. And if you managed to kill both, you had better run and hide. Because they would come back, and when they did, those brothers would find you, and they would kill you.   
“Give them a wide berth.”  
His parents would say.   
“Don’t get in their way. Don’t question their methods.”  
His father would show him a scar that spanned his side.  
“Those boys gave me that.”  
His mother would nod to the framed articles on the walls of news stories around the time of the apocalypses stopped by and were thwarted by the Winchesters.   
“They saved the world. If they show up on one of your hunts, let them help you, but don’t you dare cross them.”  
His parents had sent him out into the hunting world with hugs and parting words of advice.  
“If you're ever in trouble, only a Winchester can save you.”   
Renner knew he would find the Winchesters sooner or later, hear the steady rumble of that 1967 Impala he had been strictly instructed not to touch, and know he was either fucked or saved.   
He hoped it was the latter.


	2. Chapter 2

Alcan knew he couldn’t set up shop in a big city, as much as he wanted to, but he knew better than to infringe on another pack’s territory. He knew he had to eat however, so he found himself a nice little nook in a small Oklahoma town.

Burnsville.

Burnsville Oklahoma was a tired little place, no more than 12,000 people, a high school, a small college, the staples. Never really a place for crime, one or two robberies every few years, once or twice a murder. Often the only people in jail cells were there because of bar fights. Alcan thought it would be a good place to make his living. He got a job at the police station, and all the people that came through, he watched for the ones that nobody would miss.

He buried their bloody corpses in his back garden.

No way the Winchesters would find him here. 

Renner found it in a news article. It was his eighth case. Burnsville Oklahoma, record high for missing persons that year. Almost two per month. His well trained hunter instincts told him there was a case. And he jumped on it. His vehicle was a trashy old Honda civic. The age of hunters rumbling up in classic cars was over by now. Most often they drove rusted out little sedans, or jacked up, muddy trucks. Classic cars drew attention, tired old cars didn’t. The Impala, car of legend, was the last classic still running under the hunter banner. So Renner climbed into his rusty silver Civic and drove to Oklahoma. He listened to classic country the whole way there and stayed awake by chugging Bang energy drinks and chowing down cheap gas station food. As he drove he went over what he knew in his head. Each case he had taken he had half hoped half feared he would see the classic Impala parked somewhere in the town, and he would have to face the Winchesters at last, but it hadn’t happened yet. He wasn’t sure how he would react to them, how to hold his ground but not make himself an enemy. He knew he was just a kid, but he also knew he had to make his own way. Thus this case. It was the hardest one he had come across yet. It was difficult to pass as a fed, but he told people he had a baby face and that this was his first case. When he showed up in Burnsville, he could tell right away that this would be a tough one.

He had nothing to go on, just missing persons reports and one body that had been found.

Heartless.

It was a werewolf, but the lunar cycle was off.

Renner didn’t know what he was coming up against.


	3. Chapter 3

Alcan knew he was a hunter the moment he set foot in the precinct. Alcan had gotten a job as a receptionist for the Burnsville PD, and he loved the vantage point it gave him. So when that scrawny, young boy in an ill fitting suit walked in, Alcan knew. He could practically smell it off of him. This boy was a hunter. But Alcan wasn’t worried. If this was what he was up against, he knew it wouldn’t be hard to turn this boy around and send him away. The boy was young, he could tell that. Alcan assumed he wasn’t any older than 18 or 19, his gangly limbs and the scruffy shadow on his chin spoke for him. This had to be one of his first cases. He didn’t carry himself like a fed; he carried himself like a hunter. That light-footed, jumpy walk that hunters bore. Alcan smiled a toothy smile at him. “Hello, how may I help you?” The boy flashed a badge. “Agent Michelle, I'm here about the missing persons cases.” Alcan nodded softly. “What would make the feds involved?” He asked innocently. The hunter bit his lip softly. “We believe these are murders. If they are, our guy may have crossed state lines. That makes it business for feds.” Alcan nodded. This guy wasn’t bad. “Absolutely agent, let me get the sheriff.” The hunter nodded.

Alcan turned down the hall and rapped on the sheriff’s door. “Sheriff, there's a young federal agent here to see you about the missing person’s cases.” The sheriff looked at him with tired eyes. “Thank you Al, send him in.”

Renner tugged nervously at his sleeve. He had outgrown this suit. The weird receptionist returned, smiling that same toothy smile. “The sheriff will see you now, Agent.” Renner nodded softly. “Thank you...” He trailed off. The creepy receptionist filled in the blank. “Al.” Renner nodded softly and started down the hallway.

The sheriff’s office was cramped and crowded. A slim desk was in the middle of the room and it was overflowing with papers. There was a fish clock on the wall, and a half buried picture of what Renner assumed was the sheriff’s daughter on the edge of the desk. The sheriff herself was a thin, small woman, with dark brown hair and tanned skin. Her brown eyes were tired and worn, and her hands clutched a lukewarm cup of black coffee. She looked up at Renner as he entered. Her face showed her confusion. “You're an FBI agent?” She scoffed a little. “You don’t look old enough to even be my daughter’s prom date.” Renner sighed. “I know. I get that a lot.” He shrugged. “I have a baby face, but I assure you, I'm an adult.” He grinned a little. “My name is Agent Michelle, but you can call me Renner.” The sheriff shook his hand and motioned to a small chair. “My name is Marla. Everyone calls me that, except for Al.” Renner nodded. “The creepy receptionist kid?” Marla nodded. “He’s a little weird, yes, but he’s a good kid. He showed up in town not long before this whole mess. My sister is his landlord.” Renner raised an eyebrow. Marla smiled. “Small town.” She sighed and took a sip of her coffee. “So what can I do for you, Renner?” Renner pulled out his file. “I'm looking into the missing persons cases and the death of Lydia Mile.” Marla sighed. “Poor Lydia.” Renner looked at her. Marla continued. “She was new in town too. Had just gotten out of an abusive relationship. She was vulnerable. Whoever did this must have seen that and taken advantage of her.” Renner cocked his head. “By ripping her heart out?” Marla nodded. “Now that I will admit is a little crazy, and if it weren’t for the other thing I would have chocked it up to an animal attack, but DNA doesn’t lie.” Renner looked at her confusedly. “The other thing?” Marla nodded. “Yeah. Lydia was having some kind of sexual contact before she was murdered. Signs were all over the body. We did a rape kit on her body and it came back with DNA. Can’t trace it to anyone thought. Honestly, I'm not sure that the sample was good.” Renner leaned in. “Why do you say that?” Marla took another long swallow of her coffee. “The sample was all skewed up, wasn’t sure it was even human.” Marla shrugged. “Maybe the guy lost control? Maybe they were interrupted? I don’t know.” Renner nodded softly. “Well thank you for your time, Marla. Is it possible for me to take some copies of those reports with me?” Marla nodded. “Yeah, Al will get them for you.” Renner stood. “Thank you again, Marla, and if you need me, I'm staying at the Nightshade Motel here in town.”

Renner took the files from the creepy receptionist dude, left his contact information, and got into his civic. It was time to crash.


	4. Chapter 4

Alcan watched the hunter boy go. He knew it was a mistake with Lydia. He hadn’t meant to kill her, that was an accident, but when he was with her, it all felt so good, he let go of his control, and he transformed. Lydia had tried to get away and he grabbed her and next thing he knew she was dead, and her recently beating heart was in his claws. He had panicked, he had run, and her body was found before he disposed of it. Now hunters were sniffing around. His parents would be ashamed of him. He twisted the silver ring on his finger. The sting in his fingers was a reminder of his own mortality. He had to just wait this one out. He turned away from the window and for a moment, he thought he heard the telltale rumble of the dreaded engine. But he turned to look, and nobody was there.

Renner bit into the microwave pizza. The hot grease flooded his tongue and he moaned softly. “Ah, food.” He looked at the suit he had thrown onto the bed. An enormous stack of papers was in front of him. He had a lot of work to do. But for now, he just wanted to eat and sleep. He thought back to the creepy receptionist at the precinct. Al. If it weren’t for the silver ring Al wore on his hand, Renner would have pegged him immediately as the killer, but silver burns werewolves. What one would wear it willingly? But there was something about the wolfishness in Al’s unsettling smile, and how he had come just as the missing person’s cases started. Renner didn’t like him, but he couldn’t start stabbing anyone until he had read through all those files. He set his pizza aside, wiped his hands on his jeans, and started to open a file. This was the one on Lydia. The final victim of the five missing person cases, Lydia was what drew him here. He looked at the pictures of her body. There were marks on her neck. He looked at them closer.

Hickeys.

His stomach turned.

Whoever had been having sex with Lydia was the one who killed her. The guy must have wolfed out, and killed her by accident. His throat tightened. Lydia was pretty, a nondescript blonde, big tits, nice ass, she was just like any other Malibu Barbie. But why was she here in Burnsville Oklahoma? He dug out his laptop and ran her face through his hacked FBI database.

His screen lit up with a match. His face went slack.

Lydia Mile wasn’t Lydia Mile at all.

Lydia Mile was Joni Singer, niece of Bobby Singer, known hunter.


	5. Chapter 5

Alcan rubbed the knife wound in his side. It was healing, slowly. Bitch had nicked him with silver before he sank his claws into her. He should have known someone would come sniffing around him after Lydia was killed. If Lydia was even her name. He changed his bandage gingerly. He wasn’t sure why he had let Lydia get the best of him. He should have known right off she was a hunter. The ways she showed up in town not too long after him, the way she had approached him at the precinct. But he hadn’t seen it; he thought she was just another hot blonde. He didn’t mean to kill her, but he had to. She was going to stab him, she did stab him. He winced as he wiped the droplets of blood from his wound. She had gotten him right in the abdomen, narrowly missing his kidney. The silver ring on his finger burned as he twisted it lightly. He just had to hope that idiot boy would kill someone else and move on. He tightened up his bandage and sucked the blood off of his fingers. He was hungry. He limped over to his fridge and opening it, he pulled out a cow heart. His fangs emerged, and he opened his jaw wide, letting the fleshy, red organ slip down his throat.

Renner slammed his laptop shut. If Lydia was really Joni Singer, the Winchesters would be here any moment. Unless of course, they didn’t know. His hands shook a little as he shoved his chair back and started to pace the floor. He tried to steady his breathing, muttering to himself. “If she was someone I knew, wouldn’t I want the hunter that found her case to tell me?” The memory of his father’s scar, spanning his whole side, and his heart seized with fear. He swallowed it. His hand reached in his pocket for his phone.

He dialed the number he never wanted to call.

The line began to ring.

Dean Winchester bit into a slice of pie. His perfectly bowed lips, shaded with two day stubble, closed over the fork, and bliss exploded on his tongue. “OH CHUCK!” he cried out. Sam looked up from his book. “You okay over there?” Dean grinned, his cheeks full. “Fucking cherry pie, Sammy. Of course I'm okay.” Sam grinned. Dean took another bite. “Warrant had it right.” He moaned ludicrously. “It’s enough to make a grown man cry.” Sam shook his head and looked back down at his book. “Hear anything from Cass recently?” Dean shook his head. “He took Claire on some Father-Daughter camping trip? In all fairness he’s probably strung up in a tree by now, knowing Claire.” Sam nodded. “Fair point.” Dean swallowed the last bite of pie. He shoved his chair back. “Time for another piece.” He started to stand when his phone rang. He picked it up and answered. “Winchester. What do you want?” There was a pause. Slowly, Dean sat back down. “I'm sorry, say that again, nice and slow.” He put the phone on speaker. Sam leaned in to listen. A shaky, young man’s voice spoke through the phone. “You don’t know me, but my name is Renner Holbrook. I'm a hunter. I'm tracking this werewolf in Oklahoma, and the victim that drew me here, I believe its Joni Singer.” There was a heavy pause. “Niece of Bobby Singer.” Dean spoke and his voice was sharp. “I know who Joni is.” Renner sighed softly. Sam spoke. “You said the victim. Has something happened to Joni?” There was tense silence. Renner sighed into the phone. “I'm sorry. She’s dead.”


	6. Chapter 6

Renner paced his motel room. He still wasn’t sure if calling the Winchester boys was the right thing to do. His head was aching, and he had already downed half a bottle of Titos mixed with lemonade. His hands were shaky. Dean Winchester had firmly instructed him to not leave his motel room until they got there, so he was staying in his motel room. The last thing he needed was Dean Michael Winchester pissed at him. It had been almost three hours since they had last talked on the phone, Dean had checked in from some gas station on the Kansas Oklahoma border. They had to be almost here. Almost as if on cue, the low rumble of an engine came into the motel parking lot. In a panic, Renner started throwing away food wrappers, neatening files and hiding his liquor. There were two sharp raps on the door. He grabbed his pistol and opened it just a crack. The famous green eyes of Dean Winchester were staring at him. Renner opened the door the rest of the way. “Dean, I mean Mr. Winchester, hi.” Dean glared at him and brushed his way past him into the hotel room. “Do you have any booze?” Sam followed, with a gentle smile to Renner. “Sorry about him. He was close to Joni.” Renner nodded surreally. “Yeah, come in, there's titos in the fridge.” 

Sam knew Dean wasn’t doing well. He had been drinking on the drive over, and his hands were shaky on the wheel. Joni was the last connection to Bobby that was still alive. She hadn’t really been a big part of their lives after Bobby’s death, but she was still family. Dean would check in on her sometimes, see where she was, and see what she was doing. Her methods of getting in close with monsters were genius, but dangerous. She used her body as her weapon, and when she was in their beds, she stabbed them as they slept. Dean had always respected her. Sam was worried though. Dean tended to get a little revengeful when someone they knew died, and he could tell by the terrified look on that boy, Renner’s, face, that their reputation of being dark and cold preceded them. Sam didn’t blame him though. After all they had been through, after all they had seen, he and Dean deserved the rap they got. People were scared of them, and though he didn’t like it, he knew it was for the best. Nobody in the hunter community had tried to kill them in a long time. In fact, most other hunters just left them alone. Sam couldn’t lie, it was lonely like that. Dean was rummaging in the minibar, and pulling out the Titos, he popped the cap and took a long swallow. Sam shook his head softly. “Dean, I'm gonna go book us a room.” Renner shook his head. “Its okay, ill take the floor. Y’all can just sleep here.” Sam smiled at him. “Thanks, but its kinda dangerous to sleep in the same room as a Winchester if you're not used to it.” Renner shook his head more vigorously. “Trust me, I know how it is. My dad is a seasoned hunter.” Sam shrugged. “Okay. Its your call.” Renner nodded reassuringly. Dean sighed and drained the rest of the Titos bottle. “I'm gonna take a fucking nap.” He muttered and then curling up on Renner’s bed, he started to snore.

Renner was terrified. Sam and Dean Winchester were sleeping in his hotel room. He twisted on the floor a little. The crime scene photos of Joni raced in his mind. He wanted justice for her, but he didn’t know how to not get in the Winchester’s way. He stirred softly. Dean was curled up in a tight ball on the bed. Sam was sprawled out on the other. They slept close to each other. Renner could tell by the way their bodies gravitated toward each other that they could feel the other’s presence. Dean’s hand was gripped tight on his pillow. He whimpered in his sleep. Renner couldn’t imagine what plagued this man. What did he see in his nightmares? Dean’s hand reached out as if he was begging. “Grab on, Cas.” He muttered. “Hang tight. I'm not leaving you.” Renner rolled over and put his pillow over his ears.

He was so used to sleeping through this that it didn’t even wake him up when Dean began to cry.


End file.
